The Reinvention of Pandora Knightley
by SilverZelenia
Summary: My name is Pandora Knightley, and I don't remember the last six years of my life. I've got the memories of an eleven year old, in a seventeen year old body, because of a prank gone awry by someone called 'The Marauders'. At least, that's what my supposed best friend, Jenna Hughes, told me. Right now she's going batshit on this cute guy called Sirius Black. Fun times, eh?
1. Misfortune

**The Reinvention of Pandora Knightley**

**Chapter 1 - Misfortune**

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"Did you finish that essay for Slughorn yet?" The short blonde next to me asked as she adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag.

"Of course I did," I scoffed, rolling my eyes at her in a teasing manner. "He said twenty extra points if you had it in by today, weren't you there, Jenna?"

"Oh, please, as if you _need _those points. You, Lily, and Snape could do Potions in your sleep," She stuck her tongue out at me.

I had always been more studious than Jenna Hughes, my best friend since first year, though she always took care of her schoolwork as a top priority.

We were forced to separate as we entered the dungeon classroom, Jenna peeling off with a wave to claim the empty seat behind Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon, leaving me to claim the seat beside Severus Snape – my usual seat. Occasionally another Slytherin would sit there, but I was the only Gryffindor that ever did. I think I'm always so polite to Snape in a subconscious effort to prove to him that not all Gryffindors were despicable bullies.

It has yet to work.

"Hi," I muttered quietly as I sat down – Snape and I weren't friends, by a long shot, but I pitied his lot with the Marauders, and I garnered a grudging respect from him with my skill at Potions.

I think we _could _have gotten along when we were younger, if not for my being Muggleborn – a hindrance, nowadays – and him figuring out that I pitied him. I can't say I _sympathize, _since I've never experienced what he has, so pity is the only word for it. Snape doesn't appreciate pity – he loathes it.

Thus, the only response to my greeting was a glance out of the corner of his eye and a miniscule twitch of the lips.

Unfortunately for him, or perhaps both of us, Sirius Black and James Potter, the most popular of the Marauders, were seated at the table directly behind us. I could hear them whispering to each other as the lesson began, but it seemed Snape was doing his best to ignore them. Seats weren't assigned in Slughorn's classes, but with as much trouble as had been caused by the Marauders sitting about five feet behind Snape, I was surprised that our Professor let them continue to sit there each class.

Then again, Slughorn didn't really pay much attention to anyone unless they had connections or a particularly eye-catching appearance, so I shouldn't be surprised that Snape didn't register on his student radar, despite his talent with Potions.

"Now, today we will begin brewing Amortentia -" A slew of excited muttering broke out upon the round-bellied Professor Slughorn's words.

"Yes, yes, the most powerful love potion in the world. Now, rest assured that every last drop will be turned in to myself upon the end of the project. Wouldn't want a string of new relationships popping up around the castle if you manage to brew it right, now would we?" He wagged his finger good-naturedly at us.

"Amortentia, in the brewing phase, can be exceedingly volatile if not brewed with the utmost care. If it is ingested or even makes contact with the skin at such a time, the effects can be dire. Can anyone tell me why this is?" My hand shot up, along with Lily Evans'.

"Ah, yes, Miss Evans?" I had to refrain from rolling my eyes – Jenna was sniggering into her hand – of course he'd pick Evans, he's practically in love with her.

"Because Amortentia, as other love potions, clouds and deludes the mind into a false sense of infatuation. In the unfinished state, while lacking certain ingredients or steps, Amortentia has yet to ascertain the properties with which to target the correct portion of the mind to trick. Upon exposure to the unfinished potion, depending on the level of exposure, if correctly brewed to that point, and what stage of the potion someone is exposed to, it can cause severe damage to the mind, most likely including some form of memory loss, from a level comparable to that of a concussion to an extreme form of amnesia." Lily rattled off promptly, her tone matter-of-fact and confident.

"Either she's brewed this before, or she's eaten the textbook for lunch," I heard a voice mutter at the table behind me; I would assume Black's, since Potter wouldn't say something vaguely insulting about the supposed love of his life. "Oi, Prongs, maybe that's why you're obsessed with the bird!"

I heard a muffled thumping sound, a sound I would assume to be Potter hitting Black with his textbook.

"Excellent, Miss Evans! Twenty points to Gryffindor!" Slughorn beamed.

When the class started that day, there was nothing abnormal about it. Nothing strange, nothing unusual, and certainly nothing to tip me off about what would happen to me that day.

It was a partnered assignment, which I loathed. I'm not a particularly greedy person, if I do say so myself, but I detest having to work with people on projects. I like doing things my way and not having to worry about someone else's opinion. At least Snape was skilled - much more so than I, to be honest - so I didn't have to worry about him ruining our grade.

I'm the type of person that meticulously follows the rules. Well, I was _then_, anyway, so when I saw Snape silently slicing his Lemongrass in the exact opposite of the way described in our textbook, I had to bite my lip very harshly as well as give myself a somewhat bitter reminder that he had an even better grade than I in this subject.

I was so focused on ignoring Snape's defiance of the rules and Slughorn's over-the-top praise of Lily's work that I didn't notice the paper swan floating in the air until it hit me in the nose.

"Ouch!" I cried, dropping the knife in my hand to the tabletop with a bang.

"Are you alright, Miss Kingsley?" Slughorn asked, once again forgetting my last name, which was _Knightley_; Jenna gave a very obvious snort at this, which she covered with an even more obvious cough.

"I'm fine, I just caught the tip of my finger with my knife, sir," I lied, covering the swan with one hand.

If Slughorn had been paying attention, he surely would have known I was lying, for I was a terrible liar. My ears were reddened and my voice always went to a higher octave than it's normal one. As it was, he wasn't even looking at me and probably didn't even listen to my response.

Jenna raised her eyebrows at me, as if to say, "_Did you just _lie _to a teacher?"_

I mouthed the words "shut up" at her from across the room, glaring sharply because I knew for a fact that it was she that had sent the note in the first place. Jenna delighted in pestering me with animal-shaped notes during lessons.

When I unfolded this one, the message inside was very short and made me smile in spite of myself. Jenna's messy scrawl spelled out the question, _So how long do you think it'll be before Slughorn proposes to Evans?_

Glancing cautiously at the professor to make sure he wasn't paying attention – he wasn't – I carefully wrote a reply to Jenna stating that he'd have to go through Potter first. I tapped the paper discreetly with my wand, watching as it folded up into the shape of a rabbit that bounded through the air to my best friend.

Naturally, I had checked for anyone watching this exchange before I sent the note back, but the one place I had not looked was directly behind me, at the two dark-haired hooligans. They weren't paying any attention to my note-sending, of course, but had I looked at them I might have seen the Fillibuster's Wet-start Firework levitating through the air in the direction of my Potion.

I did, however, hear the splash as it landed inside Snape's cauldron.

Snape had gone to the supply closet a few minutes before, but I had worriedly leaned over the top of the cauldron at the splash, peering into the murky depths with furrowed eyebrows.

That was when our potion exploded in my face.

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**Reviews make me grin! :)**


	2. Confusion

**The Reinvention of Pandora Knightley**

**Chapter 2 – Confusion**

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I woke up to the sound of screaming.

Very _loud _screaming, as a matter of fact. It wasn't pleasant, let me tell you, because I had a roaring headache. Have you ever seen one of those clocks where a bird or some sort of figurine comes out one side and gets hit on the head with a hammer to tell the time? I don't know what they're called, but my head felt like I was the bird in that scenario.

My eyes took a moment to focus, but when they did, I wasn't sure if what they registered was really happening or not. There were five other figures in the room with me; a paunchy man who looked very flustered, a motherly-looking woman fussing with something in the corner, and an uncomfortable-looking, messy-haired brunette boy were three of them.

The remaining pair was another brunette boy and a short-statured blonde girl. The boy had his arms up, defending his face, while the girl yelled at him and hit any part of his body she could reach.

"You complete _prat_, Sirius Black! Do you ever think _anything _through?" The blonde screamed.

"Why aren't – _OW – _why aren't you after James? He was in on it, too!" The boy protested.

He was a very handsome boy, even I could recognize that with my spinning head.

"He wasn't the one that levitated that damn firecracker, you worthless wanker!"

The blonde was growing more and more irate the more she beat at the boy, not stopping even when he yelled as she kicked him hard in the shin. I was quite certain she would gouge his eyes out with her fingernails if she could get to them.

The older woman in the room scurried over to my side, fussing at my sheets, and it was then that I finally realized I was lying in a hospital bed, or at least what looked like one. The stone walls of the room didn't fit with any hospital I had ever been to, but from the looks of the furniture, that was where I had to be.

As to why, exactly, I was in a hospital bed, I had no idea.

I had no idea about a lot, actually.

"Oh, you're awake," The woman said as she neared my bed. "Sit up, slowly now. I suppose you're not feeling particularly well?"

I let her hand on my shoulder pull me up, groaning as the room spun in pinwheel patterns before my eyes.

"I feel like someone dropped the telly on my head," I muttered.

The sound of my raspy voice drew the attention of the girl, two boys, and man in the corner; the girl was at my side in an instant.

"Is she alright?" Her voice was worried as she stared up at the matron.

Her hand found mine, clutching it as if it were her very lifeline. My eyebrows furrowed and I frowned, recoiling away from the strange girl. I jerked my hand away from hers, holding it to my chest in an almost protective manner.

I had no idea who she was.

The girl's expression was so stunned and hurt that I felt almost like I had just kicked a puppy, but that didn't change the fact that I couldn't recall ever meeting this strange blonde before, though she seemed to think she knew me.

"Drink this, Miss Knightley," The matron said, handing me a goblet with a foul-smelling yellow sludge inside.

"What is it?" I questioned.

"It will get rid of that headache I know you have. You've had it before. Drink up!"

She shook her hands at me impatiently; I spared another doubtful look at the sludge before giving a resigned sigh and tipping it down my throat. It was an awful chunky sensation going down, and I sincerely hoped that, whatever it had been, I would never have to drink it again.

"I'm going to need you to answer a few questions, Miss Knightley," The woman said, pausing for me to nod before she continued. "What is your full name?"

"Pandora Melissa Knightley," I responded, not even thinking about it before blurting out my answer.

"And the names of your parents?"

"John Wilson Knightley and Melissa Kathryne Knightley. Her maiden name was Scott."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"No. Why are you asking me this?" I demanded, crossing my arms irritably.

She ignored me, instead looking at the girl next to my bed, who gave an enthusiastic nod and a small, hopeful smile. The matron's severe expression lessened somewhat, but she still looked tense and worried.

"Just a few more, Miss Knightley. How old are you?"

I glared at her before saying, "I turned eleven last May."

The spacious room fell into a tense silence. The three in the corner had wide eyes, and the matron's lips were pursed tightly. The strange girl let out a small sound of disbelief and sank down into a chair next to my bed, resting her head in her hands.

"Do you know what house you are in, Miss Knightley?"

My lips moved, starting to form an answer, when I realized that I didn't have one. Was she asking me where I lived?

"I-I live in a little two-bedroom house on Washington Street," I offered weakly.

She asked me what the last thing I remembered was, and I thought back, trying to remember. My entire brain felt… Vacant. No, that's not the right word. My head was full of memories, but I couldn't pull any of them into focus. I tried grasping onto some, but I couldn't catch them. It was like everything was covered with some sort of veil – I knew it was there, but I couldn't tell you what _it_ was to save my life.

I zeroed in on the first clear memory that came to mind, the clarity a nice break from the foggy wonderland a large portion of my mind seemed to be dwelling in.

I was eleven years old. It was a late July evening, the air crisp with the smell of an approaching thunderstorm. My hair was braided in pigtails, and I was sprawled on the floor of my bedroom. My head rested back on my arms as I stared upwards at the ceiling, daydreaming about cups that turned into birds and brooms that you could fly on.

A woman had come to our door that night. She called herself Professor McGonagall, and she was a very peculiar woman, or at least I thought so. She told my parents that the letter I had received several weeks prior, inviting me to a school for magical children, was not a joke.

She turned into a cat to prove it.

I remembered shrieking when she had seemingly vanished into thin air, the tabby cat with the strange markings around its eyes taking her place on our couch.

The matron's voice brought me back to reality as she asked me again what the last thing I remembered was.

"The last thing I can remember clearly is when someone called Professor McGonagall showed up at my house and told my parents I was a witch. I-I can't… Everything after that is just… just fuzzy. I feel like there should be more, but I can't remember anything," I said, frustration leaking into my voice as I clutched at my head.

"Why can't I remember?"

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**Hey, look, a wild author has appeared! Haha, yes, yes I did indeed cut this chapter right there since I'm evil like that. Let me know that you think about chapter two! :)**


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